To Anef

You stopped eating
And you stopped fucking
What does your soul subsist upon?
Grapes?
Health.
Oh yes. Health.
Measured the way you measure it.
Sanitized cardigans over Lululemon.
A routine which justifies that bottle of wine you anesthetize yourself with.
But I'm the one who's flesh makes you crawl.
My health :worries: you.
Your secret is you wish your flesh would dance.
Free of parameters.
Free of so many restrictions.
A wide expanse of swaying hips...
Which your husband likes.
After all that Pilates
It's no wonder you drink.
To keep the vicious cycle of denial and conformity
In
It's
Place.
Girl, don't you know they get to be ugly and fat and bald
and mean
and drunk with power?
Your Pilates and your precious polite pussy will never be enough.
So hiss at me with my brazen belly and
a shimmy-like-you-wanna because...
I know you wanna
You wanna be more woman.
Be more woman.
Figure out what that means.
Then do it.
Be more woman.